Celebrity Chef
by TheVeryCheesyAuthor
Summary: Gordon Ramsay replaces Severus Snape as the substitute Potions Master in Hogwarts. Hell ensues. There can only be one victor, and cooking brings out the dark side of all the Hogwarts students.
1. Chapter 1

this is the one you've all been waiting for.

* * *

"Since Professor Snape is assisting another Potions Master at the Ministry of Magic for a couple of weeks," Dumbledore bellowed and his white beard twitched, "we've hired a new Potions Master. Students, please welcome Professor Gordon Ramsay! He is–"

"Where's the lamb sauce?" One of the professors at the Head Table suddenly stood up, "This is fucking disgusting. Even my gran can cook better than this, and she's dead. Do you hear me? D-E-A-D!"

Several snickers tore through the Great Hall. The professor looked furious, and his wrinkles were incredibly prominent on his head. However, some of the children who sat at the House tables and were shaken with fear.

The elf he had been talking to fell into a dead faint, with a glazed look upon his eyes. People roared with laughter and clapped their hands, leaving the other Professors snickering behind their hands.

"This man is bloody brilliant," Ron said with awe.

"I think he's atrocious," Hermione sniffed, but hid her smile behind her hand, "But I guess only time can tell."

Meanwhile, Harry was too busy laughing and being relieved of the fact that finally sniveling Severus Snape was _gone._ Perhaps only for a few weeks, but it would be the best few weeks he would ever be able to spend in Hogwarts.

* * *

"These recipes call themselves recipes? Blah," The professor said, with a pencil tucked in his ear.

"Sir, that's a strange contraption you've got there on–" A pureblood student began to say.

"Shut up, you fucking donkey, I'm trying to read," The professor interrupted, and ran a hand through his hair.

The pureblood student looked stricken. The Gryffindor students erupted in guffaws and the other Slytherin students hissed in displeasure. Professor Ramsay slammed his hand down and stared at them all.

However, Dean and Seamus stared at him with stars in their eyes and whispered to each other.

"The God has spoken," Dean whispered.

"The legend himself," Seamus said.

"When do you think he'll say it's too raw?" Another student said.

They all burst into laughter.

"Damn, I'd kick all of your arses sideways. I told you all to be quiet," He glared at them all with blue eyes, "So instead, we'll be cooking."

With a swish of his black robes and a wave of his wand, he transformed the dreary dungeon into a large kitchen with pristine countertops. White aprons lay neatly in the corner of each chef station, ready to be worn.

"We'll be making butterbeer today," He said, "The ingredients are on the other side of the room, and you'll have sixty minutes to complete this task."

"Professor Sna-I mean, Ramsay, why are there cameras all around the room?" Hermione piped up.

"Sorry about that," He waved his wand and they all disappeared, "I'm just used to recording everything that happens."

"Professor," A blond haired boy suddenly sneered, "Where is Professor Snape and how is making butterbeer related to anything in potions?"

The man zeroed his eyes onto the blond-haired boy who suddenly paled, "You dumbass. A potions master and chef have everything in common except for one thing. Chefs create recipes to bring pleasure, and potions masters create recipes to bring magic."

The boy mumbled, "I'll tell my father about this!"

The professor rolled his eyes and waved his wand, "Who cares about your opinion. If you win, you win a 12-hour dose of Felix Fecilis. As long as you don't use it during tests and projects, blah, blah, blah, whatever, just know as long as you break the rules we'll give you a punishment," they all gasped, excited at the prospect of getting their hands on liquid luck, "You have sixty minutes... Ready, set... Go!"

Everyone went rushing to the tables, determined to win. Their hands grabbed at the magically refilling platters. Their Professor leaned back in his chair and looked at them with scrutiny and silence.

"Man, this is so cool," whispered a student, "I'm totally gonna tell my mom about this. All she watches are his shows!"

"Yeah," A half-blood whispered, "That's the same with my mom too!"

And thus, a beautiful new friendship between two children and their mothers blossomed.

* * *

"15 minutes left, get your arses to your stations and start adding your final spices!"

"Spices?" Ron asked, flabbergasted, "What are spices? Do you mean species?"

Hermione banged her head on the table, "No, Ron, spices! Like nutmeg, rosemary, and thyme."

Ron gave her a blank stare.

"Ginger?" She tried.

His face went from stock pale to a brilliant smile, "Like Ginger hair of a Leprechaun?"

Hermione just turned around and sighed, ignoring Ron. That boy's skull was thicker than mashed potatoes. She turned back to her brewing concoction, with a gentle smile on her face. At home, her parents would never let her touch the stove, so she could only dream of being in the kitchen, brewing up something delicious.

She had taken the meaning of butterbeer quite literally, adding heaps of butter and quarts of beer into her drink. The heavenly aroma wafted through the room and Gordon Ramsay stood up to admire her creativity.

"This actually looks quite delicious," He murmured, wafting the scent towards his nose with his hands, "Unlike Malfoy's over there."

"Hey!" The blond boy said, quite upset, "I'll have you know that I learned the best _wizard_ culinary there was offered!"

The entire room twitched and went silent. Draco blushed in embarrassment when everyone paused to take a smell of his cooking. The butterbeer looked green and brown and smelt like burnt sugar. Furthermore, as he stirred, the concoction thickened up to sludge.

"Alright, time's up!"

* * *

"So, Harry Potter," Professor Ramsay said, "Present your dish."

Harry, having watched multiple videos of the chef's because of his Aunt Petunia, had a small idea of what he was supposed to do. He was to serve and then make the dish sound as appetizing as possible... Right?

"Hello Professor Ramsay," He placed a dish in front of the man, "I made this drink with creamy ice cold ice cream and some high-quality chicken."

Everyone froze and snorted back their laughter. _Chicken?_

"Interesting," the Professor said, looking at his dish with disgust, "You don't suppose that I'm an idiot, do you?"

"No, Professor," Harry replied, confused.

"Then why the hell would I," Gordon Ramsay picked up a piece of chicken from the brown sludge, "Eat _raw chicken?"_

Harry went beet red.

* * *

"Ron Weasley," Ramsay said.

Ron gulped and went up with his plate. He set it on the table with a loud bang and scooted away quickly as if the table was fire. His dish was surprisingly a light shade of yellow and almost looked appetizing.

"Huh," Professor Ramsay said, swishing his mug around, "It's liquid too."

He took a sip and immediately spit it out, gagging. Ron looked flabbergasted and paled even further to a sheet white color.

"This is," The professor looked at him directly in his eye, "The weirdest shit I have ever tasted. Goddamn. What was even in it?"

"Ginger hair of a leprechaun!" Ron squeaked, eyeing Hermione out of the corner of his eye, "And a clock."

"Oh, that explains it," Gordon muttered, "Leprechaun hair imitates the recipe... But why the hell did you put a clock in _butterbeer?"_

"Someone told me that I needed to put time in there!"

"Goddamn," Professor Ramsay sighed, "It's thyme, with an 'h' and a 'y'. Not time."

* * *

"Ah, Granger."

Hermione proudly flourished her mug in front of Ramsay. It was a beautiful golden color, and everyone salivated when he amplified the smell so all of them could smell it.

"Heh, mudblood," Draco said loudly, "They belong in the kitchens."

Without looking up, Gordon flicked his wand towards the blond's direction. The boy squealed twice and barked like a ferret. Laughter erupted and the scattering of claws was heard throughout the kitchens.

"I made this," Hermione's voice wavered but steadily grew stronger, "With fresh goat butter, Irish beer, sugar from Morroco, and pink pixie dust. On top of that, I brewed this for an hour and added freshly made ice cream along with a variety of spices responsibly sourced from Russia and Africa. Enjoy."

Everyone stared at the drink in awe, and Gordon took a sip.

"Bloody hell!" He shouted, "This is the best, fucking thing I have tasted all day. Goddamn. When we go back to the muggle world, try out for Masterchef Junior. I'd automatically claim you as the winner."

* * *

"Don't even bring that up to me." The professor yelled.

Draco Malfoy paled and walked back to his table, wafting the smell of decaying corpses and rotten eggs. People gagged and plugged their noses, while others, like Pansy Parkinson, had outright fainted.

"Someone walk her to the damn nurse," Gordon sighed.

"Professor," A Slytherin piped up, "She's unconscious. She can't walk."

"Then levitate or something," He yelled, "Use your damn magic. Use your peanut sized brains!"


	2. Chapter 2

"So you think you can cook," Professor Ramsay said with a spat, "Then what the fuck does this..."

He held up a tan colored log that weakly flopped around. It would've almost looked appetizing if their goal was to make something liquid, not something _solid._ Having it move around didn't help either.

 _"Well,"_ Crabbe stuttered, "P-Professor, I don't know."

"You don't know?" He roared and stood up.

Crabbe cowered behind his desk and nodded. In his imagination, Professor Ramsay looked like a fuming dragon with steam coming out of his nose. The other fifth years' mouths went dry in fear. Some snorted in laughter.

"This is even worse than Malfoy's," Ramsay shouted and slapped Crabbe's face in between two pumpkin pastries, "What are you?"

"A-A wizard, sir," Crabbe looked like he was about to faint.

The silence bore heavily on their shoulders as the Professor looked angrier by the minute. A thud landed on the floor but their focus was honed on the man yelling at the Slytherin boy.

"You're supposed to say an idiot sandwich," Seamus snickered as others looked on in confusion.

"He really is an idiot," Dean coughed back.

"AN IDIOT SANDWICH," Ramsay suddenly roared, "NOT A WIZARD. AN. IDIOT. SANDWICH! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Crabbe collapsed in a faint.

The strange log continued to flop around.

* * *

"Dean Thomas," The professor called.

"H-Here, Sir!" Dean said in awe, "I can't believe I'm seeing you in real life!"

To everyone's surprise, the professor cracked a small grin, making him look decades younger. Dean balanced his overflowing mug and placed it in front of Gordon. The color was a pale yellow, a color incredibly similar to the golden color of butterbeer.

"This is an interesting alteration," Gordon said.

On the top of the foam was a scoop of ice cream that started to melt and crystallize the sugar crystals in itself. Everyone else watched in fascination as Dean changed the colors from yellow to pink.

Everyone watched as the man nodded in approval and took the mug into his hands. Dean chewed his lip in nervousness as Professor Ramsay took a sip.

The man's tan face suddenly turned pale.

Then red.

Then green.

Then blue, until he choked out, "Get the bezoar..."

Neville fetched the small bezoar from the medical cabinet as others frantically ripped open the cupboards to find it. Hermione flung one of the cabinets so hard that the hinges came undone. The professor gasped and swallowed the bezoar, his throat burning like hell.

The drink he had just consumed was undeniably poisonous.

Gasping, he asked Dean; "What...the hell did you put in there?"

"M-Mushrooms, s-sir," Dean said.

"These aren't just any mushrooms," Hermione suddenly called from the back of the room, "They were Death-Cap mushrooms, professor!"

Suddenly, Gordon was on his feet and he looked furious, "What did you think you're doing, you gimp boy? Are you making a drink, or are you trying to summon a demon?"

Dean wet his pants. Either in awe or in terror, no one knew.

* * *

"I'm just so fucking done with you donkeys," Professor Ramsay fumed, "If your drinks don't have a golden color, clean your cauldrons and leave class immediately."

All of them stared at him in silence.

"NOW!" Gordon roared.

Half of the students scrambled and mumbled spells underneath their breaths to clean up their sticky cauldrons, and others, who were not so bright, dumped it down the sink or tried to somehow get rid of it. Blaze tripped running out of the classroom with his cauldron brimming full of murky brown liquid and smashed it on Pansy Parkinson.

Covering her face, he screamed and cried, running to the Medical Wing like Hell was on her heels.

In the midst of all the commotion, only a trembling boy with a toad was left to face his wrath.

"You," Professor Ramsay said, "Show me what you got, son."

The black-haired boy came forward to him with trembling legs and a mug in his hands. Everyone paused in their actions and stared at the Longbottom with intense eyes. Some with concern, and others with anticipation.

 _"Don't do it,"_ The Golden Trio chanted in their head, " _Don't do it."_

"Present your dish," The professor's voice was curt and Neville whimpered.

He shuffled forward and almost knocked the table before Ramsay over. The professor, already in a bad mood, scowled and caused the boy to drop the mug onto the table with a loud bang.

"What's your name."

"N-Neville Longbottom, S-Sir," He whimpered.

"Well, Longbottom," some Hogwarts students snickered, "Let's see how this tastes, shall we? However, I must give you applause. The color is nice."

Gordon, expecting the worse, took a small spoon and put a small amount on there. He swirled it around with a critical eye, looking for residue. The man muttered _'screw it!'_ underneath his breath and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth and let the liquid run down his throat.

Everyone looked at him in anticipation.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron exchanged nervous looks.

Professor Ramsay's eyes suddenly snapped open and widened like saucers.

He grabbed the mug and started chugging as if his life depended on it. After just ten seconds of people staring at him and the sound of his gulping and slurping, he put the mug down and licked his lips with a great sigh. Not a single drop was wasted and everyone stared at the crazed man in confusion.

"S-Sir..."

He held a finger up and prayed to God, drawing the crucifix onto his chest. The students stared at him, and Dean and Seamus were furiously whispering.

"Jesus Christ, why didn't I bring a camera..."

"...What just happened, I've never seen him like that."

"Dean, do you reckon he's finally found something he's liked."

"Nah, Seamus, it's probably a fluke."

"I don't think it is. Look at him, he's trembling-"

"THIS IS THE GREATEST BUTTERBEER I HAVE EVER TASTED," Gordon Ramsay yelled, "THIS IS THE FUCKING GREATEST THING I HAVE EVER TASTED. MR. LONGBOTTOM, THIS IS _WONDERFUL! TRULY REMARKABLE!"_

Seconds after those words left his mouth, Neville collapsed in a heap.

"Did I do something wrong? Bloody hell, I was going to ask to buy the recipe from him..." Gordon muttered.

* * *

Neville awoke to bright lights and eyes full of crust. His ears rang and he felt the bed underneath him, hard and uncomfortable. He softly groaned and moved to his side, only to face excited blue eyes, a wrinkly forehead, and a notepad.

He yelped in shock and gripped the sheets in fear, the color drained away from his face.

"S-Sir, w-why a-are y-you he-"

Oh my god, was his Professor going to kill him?

"Listen, Neville, I drank your butterbeer, and I think it was bloody brilliant. Can I buy the recipe off of you, or help patent it with you? Or, you can even publish it as your own with my help."

"A-Alright, so first I got a cauldron and placed the carcass of a fairy and some butter," Gordon suddenly looked repulsed but said nothing.

"Then I browned the salt and pepper in a smaller cauldron with some sugar. I covered it all with cold water and brought it to a boil and simmered it for twenty minutes," Neville's voice grew stronger and more confident as he talked.

"I tasted it from time to time to ensure the flavor became well incorporated and continued to cook it and added more sugar and essence of beetle. Afterwards, I strained the concoction and waited for it to cool down and skimmed all the weird film from the surface," The weird film, albeit strange, did not throw Neville off as he cooked his concoction.

Gordon nodded, furiously jotting down notes. His face had taken upon a green tinge as the boy talked but he kept his facial expression neutral.

"I brought it to a boil again, and just added whatever I found in the kitchen pantry, including gillyweed. Oh, and I think I added toe syrup, but I'm not quite sure," Neville's eyes became bright and his cheeks were flushed with joy, "I simmered it again until the gillyweed turned clear and I lined a sieve along a towel and ladled it over. I made sure to cream it along with some unicorn milk and served it hot."

"Bloody brilliant," Gordon muttered, "using gillyweed. Of course!"

"T-Thank you, sir," Neville had the biggest smile on his face.

"You," Ramsay said, "Are hired."

Dean and Seamus gasped from behind the curtains, "Holy shit!"

* * *

 **any ideas? suggestions? l _eave m_ e some reviews for me to read!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Neville!" A booming voice yelled, "Neville!"

A million thoughts were running through his head, but most of them were:" _Oh my god, I'm going to be expelled! Oh my god, I have a job? He uses his voice like Gran oh my god oh my god oh my god I'M GOING TO DIE!"_

"Neville Longbottom! Would you please slow your steps down! I'm afraid my old heart is going to beat right out of my chest from all this chasing!"

Neville, still clad in a thin hospital gown issued by Madam Pomfrey ran even faster. His bare feet slapped again the stone tiles of the Hogwarts' floor. With one hand, he flung open the doors to the Great Hall and charged forward. He even ignored the surprise looks his fellow classmates sent him and the sneer Malfoy sent him.

He came to a full stop before the Headmaster.

"M'boy, are you alright? Perhaps you need to go back to Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled and Neville felt the urge to face Professor McGonagall about his problems instead. However, this would probably offend Dumbledore so he stared straight at his wispy white beard.

"S-Sir... Professor Ramsay is out to have my hide. He told me I was hired but I'm pretty sure he means to use me in one of the dishes! Headmaster, please save me!"

The Great Hall, noisy only seconds ago, all turned their eyes towards the trembling boy to pleading with the Headmaster. The boy had locked knees and a faint paleness to his face. Otherwise, he seemed perfectly alright.

It was his request that started a booming laugh out of Hagrid and was soon joined by the hundreds of students.

"Perhaps you have hit your head-"

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!" The Great Hall's doors were once flung open again unceremoniously, "LET ME HIRE YOU!"

With that, the said boy dropped to the ground in another dead faint.

"Merlin."

* * *

Harry was having the best time of his life. Potions had become his favorite class, and Snape was still gone.

"Harry, don't you think your souffle looks a bit... Orange?"

Harry snorted, "Hermione, I think I know what I'm doing. I've done this countless times."

Indeed, he had. He had made this souffle for his relatives' company dinners multiple times. He bet he could make this with his eyes closed. Looking down, he did see that his souffle was just a hint too orange, but it was probably still fine.

"I was just making sure you were alright. You don't have to be so snappy."

"Sorry, Hermione."

He rolled his green eyes and placed the souffle inside of the baking rack with a clang. Cooking was his forte. Even if he sometimes used questionable ingredients and cooking methods.

* * *

To say Draco Malfoy was having the worst week of his life would be an understatement. First, he royally pissed off Professor Ramsay when he tried to make biscuits and gravy. It was supposed to be a house elf's work! Not his.

Second, all the spells Professor Moody had performed Harry could mimic perfectly, and his wand wouldn't obey him. He saw the little grin Harry sent him every time the spells he tried backfired on him.

The entire Slytherin House had heard of his mistakes but didn't dare laugh at his face. However, he _knew_ that they talked about him behind his back. He saw the small giggles that escaped some of the girls when he made eye contact with them.

Unknown to him, they were only giggling because he was _so damn sexy._

* * *

Ron Weasley had never been more grateful to his mother his entire life. Thank god she forced him to help her around the kitchen when he was younger, or else he would've ended up with burned goopy messes like Malfoy's.

However, Moody's irritability diminished the feats he had accomplished in 'Potions' class. Every time he gained points for Gryffindor, he seemed to lose it in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

For example, when he did a perfect plating of caviar and biscuits, Professor Ramsay had awarded him with twenty points. He was able to bask in that glory until they arrived in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He tried to jinx without speaking, but he just couldn't do it fast enough.

"..."

"Ronald Weasley, five points off for not being able to jinx nonverbally."

"..." His red eyebrows scrunched together in anger.

"Ron Weasley, watch your attitude. Five points off for keeping a face like that."

"..." He had to get this jinx right before-

"Five points off for not acknowledging a Professor when he is teaching-"

"PROFESSOR MOODY," He roared out, and Parvati Patil shrieked with a stinging hex hit her, "YOU SLIMY GIT, I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO-"

"Silence Ronald. Another five points off for talking back to a Professor."

He flopped down with a groan and accepted the splash of water Hermione had shot out of her wand. He would never say this out loud, but he kind of missed Snape now.

* * *

Hermione Granger was conflicted.

One, the Potions Class was now being taught by Professor Ramsay, one of the most famous chefs in the world. Once she had told her parents of this new development, her mother wrote back the longest letter she had ever received talking about how it was an amazing opportunity.

Two, it was a fun class.

Three, she wasn't learning anything too magic related in that class. She knew that brewing potions and cooking were similar, but there was almost little to no magic she learned.

Maybe except some cleaning spells and some household spells. And how combining some muggle ingredients with magic would result in the most curious things.

And four, she tried her best, but somehow Neville almost always topped her. She was slightly peeved that his concoctions always tasted better than hers, or the presentation was "like a professional celebrity chef's!"

Harry's was always questionable. Somedays they would end up alright, and other days they wouldn't end up fine. However, she could tell that Harry definitely made a mistake in his souffle. Even though she did say that the color was _a little_ orange- it was actually supposed to be neon orange.

The most concerning thing about it was that the smell was absolutely disgusting. It was like sulfur!rotten eggs!disgusting!nose!malfunctioned!help!


	4. Chapter 4

They came into the Great Hall with a flurry of loose recipe sheets and whisks tucked behind their ears. Aprons replaced their robes, and the smell of steel culinary penetrated their noses. Onlookers gripped their floating seats nervously, sweat dripping behind their backs.

Supporters had banners larger than ones ever made for Quittich, and the professors scratched at their arms nervously.

The students marching in had drawn faces, lines covered with exhaustion and tired fingers.

It was time to fight in the Food Wars.

"Welcome to the first annual Food Wars."

All focus was diverted onto the man in the middle, holding a large chopper. His arms were crossed and the lights shone onto his figure. The lights magically removed his wrinkles as he talked to the levitating cameras.

"Days ago the search began for the smartest and brightest students of Hogwarts to compete in this competition," He gestured around the dining hall for the show, "To win the golden egg."

He and his producers were smart enough to be able to replace keywords with some other words. Hogwarts became Britain, and the golden egg became a cash prize.

His skilled fingers held the golden egg for up to see, but behind cameras, it was disguised as money. As he opened the golden egg, gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Settled in the plush, velvet pillow was an entire gallon of liquid luck surrounded by hundreds of galleons.

The cameras then floated around him and started to pan onto the different glamorized contestants for their introductions.

* * *

"I'm the brightest witch of my age," Hermione said, flipping her brown, bushy hair behind her shoulder, "I believe that with all the effort I've put in, I will win."

* * *

"I..." Draco looked peeved and a little bit green in the face, "am mediocre at cooking... According to Professor Ramsay, I am entertainment."

Immediately whispers had started around the Great Hall. Most of them were confused and concerned- where had Draco's infamous fat ego went? Lucius Malfoy sent a dark look towards the professor.

* * *

"My name is Neville Longbottom. I am here to win," The slightly chubby boy said, his eyebrows furrowed into concentration, "I believe I can win."

His grandmother looked at him in shock and joy.

"That's my grandson! That's the Longbottom confidence!"

Neville sent her a serious look and once again, the Great Hall was stunned.

* * *

"I really want money," Fred Weasley started.

"So we disguised ourselves as Blaise and Pansy-" George smirked.

"BOYS!"

* * *

"My name is Harry Potter... And apparently, I'm decent at cooking because my relatives abuse me and use me as a sandwich maker. Also, the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore know but like they aren't going to do anything about it."

Gasps rippled through the crowd, and they turned to look at the stunned Headmaster and Minister. The entire crowd was about to rip them to shreds if it wasn't for the ongoing competition.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley," a family of Redheads cheered loudly and the boy blushed as red as their hair, "I discovered that I was okay at cooking this year. So here I am. I kind of want to win since there's a lot of money involved."

* * *

"Hi my name is Dean and I really can't believe I'm on this show do you think my mom can see me am I going to be famous now oh my gosh I wish Seamus was also here with me but apparently his cooking skills don't provide entertainment value and oh my god I'm so excited mom do you see me hi mom I'm on your favorite chef's show oh my god I'm famous I want to win so I can be with Gordon Ramsay forever oh my god..."

He ended with a thud.

* * *

"I'm the real Blaise Zabini. I decided to accept the invitation because I was bored."

* * *

"My name is Goyle. Not sure why I'm here. My cooking is decent though."

* * *

"It's a battle for the title of Food Wars Overlord, hundreds of galleons and their own ninety-six hour supply of liquid luck, as only one will be crowned Hogwart's Foodie!"

Ripples of whispers went through the crowd.

"That much liquid luck? Wouldn't that be like... Overdose?"

"Ninety-six point five hours is an overdose," A chilling sneer swept through the crowd, "Gordon Ramsay... What have you been doing to my class for the few weeks I was gone?"

"Ah, you, slimy git, this is my class now."

"I do recall you saying that you are a sub-"

"Sit your arse down!"

Snape sent him a sneer and set his mouth in a frown, "No, _Mister_ Ramsay, I refuse to have what's mine being taken from me."

"Alright, but the real professor here is me. You're some fake," Gordon's mouth started to foam in anger, "Child-abusing, Voldemort-worshipping, fake-"

The mic was suddenly cut and Dumbledore cleared his throat to gather attention. By now, Snape was heaving in so much anger that his eyes turned bloodshot and a vein in his forehead threatened to burst. He was yelling but a Muffalato spell had been cast over both the older men.

"Settle down now," Dumbledore chuckled, "We ought to not get too riled up before the actual battle."

"I-" Snape broke through the spell with spittle flying everywhere, "Challenge you, Gordon Ramsay, to a Food Wars Battle! The winner takes the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts!"

Ripples of whispers pierced the crowd.

"...Is that even allowed?"

"That'd d be so sick!"

"Permanent Potions Professor as Ramsay!"

"Team Ramsay!"

"I mean, Gordon is Slytherin too..."

Gordon Ramsay looked straight into Severus Snape's eyes, "I accept."


End file.
